


Until Long After She Takes Her Final Breath

by watermelonriddles



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25809121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watermelonriddles/pseuds/watermelonriddles
Summary: "And really, he shouldn’t be wasting another second on her. He’s gotta do it himself. It’s his mess to clean up and hell, she’s his girl, right?HisElizabeth. Is. Was.Could have been.It’s all the same really in that it don’t fucking matter all that much no more and it stopped mattering when she put three in him but there’s just enough of it that remains there. Enough that keeps him coming back to the momentithappened, enough that kept him up most nights after he woke up in hospital, enough that makes him surehe’sgonna be the one to put a bullet inher."— or: an alternate version of Beth and Rio's reunion in s3 (from his perspective).
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 33
Kudos: 315





	Until Long After She Takes Her Final Breath

**Author's Note:**

> **Please read the archive warnings/tags and please pay attention to the title.** They should all tell you enough to know if this fic isn't your thing before you jump into it.

When Rio spots her sitting at the bar, he allows himself some time. He leans his shoulder up against the wall. The majority of the people between him and her are sitting so he’s got a fairly unobstructed view. It makes him wish she would turn around, just to see how she’ll react when she spots him across the room, but he doesn’t want to give her a chance to make a run for it. Besides, wouldn’t it be just as satisfying to appear right beside her? Get a close up look at her face, see her get impossibly paler.

Although, from what he’s heard from Rhea and Marcus — which, _shit_ , that’s not gonna stop feeling like a low blow for a long time even once the night is over, — Elizabeth hasn’t seemed all that put out all things considered. Acting like she ain’t the reason he wasn’t home and that Marcus would cry himself to sleep and Rhea would get stressed and angry about when he’d finally pop back up again. And fuck, if he had been dead? How long would she have kept it up for?

As he watches her, he makes his way across to the bar. It’s not like he expected her to cry herself to sleep or anything. Hell, _he_ was the one that taught her how to use a gun in the first place and if she’d moped around feeling all guilty over shooting anyone else, he would’ve told her it wasn’t worth it but they were different weren’t they? At least different enough that she should at least feel some kind of upset for putting three slugs in him, at least enough to not be around his fucking kid or make friends with his ex. And yeah, so he’s not so innocent in it either. In hindsight, maybe he’d make a different decision about that night. Wouldn’t give her the gun, wouldn’t intensify the situation, wouldn’t kidnap her, wouldn’t kidnap Turner, just wouldn’t do any of it. He would pack up Marcus instead, probably Rhea too, and take them far away for a bit and not come back until Elizabeth was out of his system and she’d moved on to whatever fucking thing she’d make her newest project.

Part of him isn’t all that angry at her for putting three in him because he would’ve done the same if their roles were reversed and shit, maybe if she hadn't cosied up to his family then maybe he wouldn’t want to return the favour as badly as he does right now. It’s not gonna be three. Just one. Somewhere it’ll be quick, he hasn’t decided and he’s trying not to read too much into the fact that he hasn’t ‘cause he’s sorting this tonight.

Elizabeth's checking her phone when he gets to her but she still hasn’t turned. He hears her make some comment to the bartender about how she’s gonna wait for her friend before she orders anything. It’d been hard enough to get Rhea not to come, promising he'd tell her everything once he got back. She’d have talked him out of it. It don’t matter what shit Elizabeth’s done, Rhea’s too much of a good person, probably why it didn’t work out between him and her or, well, one of the reasons.

“She ain't comin'.”

He sees her whole body tense up and she slowly turns to look at him as he slides onto the stool beside her.

“I think you might need that drink, huh?”

She’s just staring at him, eyes sometimes darting away or she just blinks slowly, but otherwise, she’s unmoving. He talks away to her as he slides closer, asking how she’s been and about her kids, just driving it home that he _knows_ but shit, Marcus basically didn’t shut up about her or her youngest, _Jane_ , from the moment Rio sat down on the couch to hear all about him playing soccer.

There’s no reaction though, nothing, and well, that’s fine by him.

“Oh!” He chuckles. “I gotta show you something.”

Rio reaches into his pocket, his hand grasping the three bullets, the ones he’s been carrying around with him since his surgery. The ones he would look at, the ones that he kept a hold of for this moment specifically. He holds his hands between them and rolls one of the bullets between his fingers. For a moment, he just stares at it, taking slow breaths, remembering the pain before he kisses it.

“Lung.”

He settles it down on the bar with a hard thud and picks up another. The next one, he barely waits on. It was the least awful of the bunch.

“Spleen.”

He settles that one down too with an equally hard thud and picks up the last bullet. This one, he doesn’t kiss, but he does take a moment to really look at it. The first shot. The one he could have survived with without needing all the bells and whistles to stop him from dying. The one that still had him on his feet, the one that hell, he might’ve thought was an accident considering her surprise after the trigger was pulled. The one that wouldn’t have meant surgery or being stuck in that hotel room having to play along with Turner until he could make his movie.

The one in his lung might’ve caused the most damage, might’ve made it feel like he was drowning, might’ve made it feel like breathing just wasn’t worth it. This final bullet he puts down on the bar, looking at her as he does so, might not have caused that much damage, might not have caused as much pain, but it brought a lot of hurt in other ways.

“Shoulder.”

She still doesn't say anything and he only looks away to thank the bartender when he comes over with their drinks. He tries to make a joke out of it, toasting to her aim, but the moods slipping and any sense of joy he figured he’d get out of seeing her reaction simply ain’t happening and more than ever, he just wants it done.

He knocks his drink back when she still doesn’t say anything and then he encourages her to drink her own. It’s tempting to lay it all out to her, to prolong it just enough that the idea of what’s gonna happen to her tonight will crawl its way even further under her skin. Let her see it coming a mile off and have to sit with the tension of knowing _how_ but not exactly _when_. Only- He’s exhausted.

He wants it done.

Over.

And really, he shouldn’t be wasting another second on her. He’s gotta do it himself. It’s his mess to clean up and hell, she’s his girl, right? _His_ Elizabeth. Is. Was. _Could have been_. It’s all the same really in that it don’t fucking matter all that much no more and it stopped mattering when she put three in him but there’s just enough of it that remains there. Enough that keeps him coming back to the moment _it_ happened, enough that kept him up most nights after he woke up in hospital, enough that makes him sure _he’s_ gonna be the one to put a bullet in _her_.

With that, he swipes the bullets up from the bar and thrusts them into his pocket before he’s standing up, firmly grasping her arm. Her eyes draw wide as she looks up at him, a little startled from the sudden movement and it’s the most her reaction has varied since he came up to her. He doesn’t let it bother him though, just starts walking, tugging her off the stool so she has no choice but to follow him.

He heads out the back where Mick’s got the van parked and the one time he looks back at her, he can see the cogs turning. She’s finally trying to figure out how the hell she’s gonna get out of this and shit, if she’d shot anyone other than him, he might’ve been thrilled to hear what she comes up with.

There’s no getting out of this one though.

It’s not like when she got him arrested or when she couldn’t kill Boomer or when she stole his drugs or any of it. This is one thing she can’t get away with and for a long time, Marcus was the only line she would never walk back from and hell, she’d brought him into this as well after she went sniffing around. To Rio, there’s more than one reason to kill her tonight and nothing else is gonna make it right.

Mick’s already got the back door open when they reach the van and Rio unceremoniously shoves her towards it. She stumbles a little but manages to catch herself and climb inside once she realises Mick is standing too close for her to back away from the van. Once she’s in, she settles on one of the benches and Rio climbs in after her, taking the gun with the silencer from Mick and keeping it out of her view.

She opens her mouth like she’s gonna speak but he drops down to his knees in front of her and she quickly closes it. Rio nudges her legs apart just so there’s a little more space. She draws back a little and he can her trying to figure out what the hell is going on but he uses the momentary distraction to put the gun on the floor of the van, right in front of him, just under his knee so it doesn’t slide away.

Mick closes the doors behind them and moves into the front of the van. There's enough light coming in through the windshield that Rio can still see her and he shouldn't do it here but those cogs are already back to spinning as she continues to try and figure out what to do and it's already been a long fucking night.

He doesn't stop Mick as he starts to drive. The visibility inside the van differs as they drive by buildings and under streetlights. Sometimes he can barely see her and other times, she's shining bright. Her mouth firmly closed, her eyes bright blue and brimming with tears, and her body rigid. He reaches up to push her hair back out of her face, taking the moment in.

They hit a dip in the road. He manages to stay where he is, still kneeling on the floor of the van but Elizabeth slips forward a little, her hands grasping at his shoulders for support.

It burns in a way he didn't expect.

It might be through layers of clothing but she's gripping hard like she's forgotten what's about to happen and she's blinking at him, her jaw a little slack, and fuck, he can feel himself hesitating. Can feel other memories starting to rear their heads. Happy memories. _Good_ memories.

Rio looks out the front window. They're close enough now so he focuses back on her and she's still gripping his shoulders as he leans in. The van is cast into near-darkness, just enough of it to light her face and he takes the opportunity to grab the gun from the floor and position it between them. She doesn’t seem to notice and he’s careful as he points it directly at her.

Again, she opens her mouth. "Rio, I'm-"

He pulls the trigger.

She lets out a startled gasp.

She blinks.

Her hands tighten.

Her eyes dart down

"It's okay.”

He tells her that because her eyes are too blue and they’re wide and they’re just looking at him like he has the fucking answer. Not like he just shot her, not like he isn’t scrambling to make it stop, but like he’s the only thing she can focus on. And it fucks with him that a part of his brain is screaming at him to do something, to stop the bleeding, to tell Mick to take them somewhere they can get help. Shit, he’d even go to the hospital but he ignores the screaming.

It fucks with him that he would’ve easily seen her get shot in the head by Mick in her living room and would’ve even stomached shooting her himself after she got him arrested if her husband hadn’t of been a better punishment but _this_ , kneeling between her legs, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her eyes never leaving his, it’s not something he planned for. He didn’t plan for those good, happy memories to keep rearing their ugly heads, he didn’t plan on the feeling of dread ripping through him knowing that she’s going to die, he didn’t plan on _her_ and he realises now, he was never gonna win tonight.

Suddenly, she moves, reaching out blindly to her left and he has no choice but to move away from her. He puts the safety on the gun, takes out the magazine and pockets it, then settles the gun down on the floor of the van. He watches her fumble, slips off the bench, and grasp her bag in her hands.

He doesn’t stop her, he’s sure he can handle whatever is in there and he’s pretty fucking confident she doesn’t have a gun even if he has been grossly wrong with her in the past. Still, he watches curiously until she grasps her phone and then he’s moving, yanking it out of her hand and she falls back, breathing heavily as she tries to reach for it.

“Nah, I don’t think so.”

Memories of Turner holding the phone just out of reach suddenly flash in his mind and anger rips through him but then he must nudge a button or something because the phone screen lights up and she settles back, content all of a sudden. His brow furrows and he tears his eyes away from her to look at the screen and he sees it. _Her kids._

And hell knows she doesn’t deserve this but still, he settles down beside her, pulling her in so he can cradle her like some fucking baby and then he holds her phone out to where she can see it and lets the screen illuminate again because she's _Elizabeth_. His exception, not his rule. She's different and this isn't some random housewive who stole from him anymore or some guy who tried to step in on his business or some fed who didn't know when to cut his loses. This is _her._ She just watches the screen, tears coming now and she studies their faces. He wonders if she’s gonna try and grab the phone, try to call for help.

It makes his stomach twist when she doesn’t do anything, when she doesn’t even try to stop the bleeding, and he realises then that her gripping his shoulders and staring at him _was_ her panic. That _was_ her grasping at her chance for life and now she wants her kids, she wants to see them and he don’t blame her for it. Marcus was the last thing he thought about before he blacked out and the last thing he wished he saw.

Before he woke up in a hospital bed that is.

He shouldn’t let her have this. Should just let her die staring up at the dark ceiling of the van instead. In fact, he should get Mick to pull over and let him out so he can go home to Marcus and leave her to die alone but he already knows he’s not gonna do that. Already knows as she’s laying in his arms and staring at her kids and whimpering and her breathing getting all ragged that he’s gonna stay. He knows as he tries not to watch her face and fucking fails _hard_ at it, that he had to clean up his mess, that he’d let her get away with too much and this time she crossed too many lines but fuck it, that don’t mean it’s easy and that’s _his_ punishment for not cutting her lose way back when.

So, Rio sits there on the cold, hard floor of this van and he holds her and he doesn’t leave until long after she takes her final breath because it’s the only thing that calms the screaming.


End file.
